Long Valencia Poems
Long Valencia Poems. Below are the most popular long Valencia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Valencia poems by poem length and keyword.
Goosies
Jennifer Lopez gets them a lot
when she listens to singers on American Idol.
Perhaps it happened to me a few times, but I can’t recall
the specific time that a song gave me the goosies.
Those crazy little pimples above which the hairs stand erect
most usually on our arms
occur when people are moved by things:
music, dance, emotions.
Also things that creep us out or give us great fear
can give us the chills or goosebumps.
My mother used to say, “When you get a sudden chill
for no specific reason, it means that someone
just walked over your grave.”
That happened for me just a couple of times.
Maybe my future burial spot is a little bit remote!
As I think and think about it, I can recall at least one time
this strange phenomenon known as goosebumps
caused not just my arms, but nearly my entire body,
to resemble that of a plucked bird!
It was back in ‘74 and I was with a small group of students
visiting the coast of the Mediterranean Sea off Spain’s beautiful Valencia.
It was late winter (or perhaps very early spring).
All my life I wanted to say I had swum in a sea far from America!
Though the temperature was extremely cold for swimming,
I dared myself to venture out into the Mediterraean that day.
As the others in my group dared only to poke their toes into the ice-cold water,
I submerged my entire body. What a shock it was!
Nevertheless, for at least twenty minutes, I lay on my back,
letting my body float and float,
drifting with the tide while making sure to keep close by the shore.
When I noticed the group was wanting to leave, I swam back.
As I sat in the bus with a towel wrapped around me, I shivered uncontrollably
and my skin puckered up as the hairs rose up on both my legs and arms.
I had been foolish that day, but I felt proud to say
I had swum in the Mediterranean Sea.
Nov. 14, 2019 for the 'Goosebumps' Poetry Contest of Delilah Ventura
Universal love
How to explain( I wrote "explain" seven times
before I got the spelling right)
my nephew, who lives in Spain but not in Valencia
where the storm occurred, played golf
A turbulent of Swedes secure of theIr long spell
democracy against an insecure Norwegian team
The Swedes won, but my nephew got a medal
made of bronze
later in the day, it struck me that should the game
have been played during the devastating new
It was explained to me the tournament had been
booked beforehand
Should they have postponed the game to honor
the victim; they tell me life has to go on and
remembering is a waste of time, but I think not
When the golf players' time can and will they
recall when a game of golf was more important
than spending time mourning the dead
When I wrote the above lines, I was drunk that
proves my inner self is more caring
than the mien of tough exterior, I present to avoid
the hurt and soft heart represent
Inviting you into my heart was both a blessing and a curse did you not think ?
to tell me in less reckless ways you lost yourself in this fragile dance for two
Inside this tango of passion you dipped then dropped, where was the floor ?
that swallowed me like a Spanish dancer with a Rose between her lips
Idealistic player that you are we fitted right, so what sin did I commit?
Truth be told the only one that I could think of was loving you too much
Ignoring all your calls I tried to make a life without you in it but why oh why ?
tackling all my dance moves you got me like a Flemish wounded poppet
Indian giver that you are you loved then passed it on, so why was she ?
tangerine lipped & coiffed congealed to your chest like a Minerva Goddess
Ice cream words melted from the heat, castanets clapped & where were you ?
tendencies often nothing more than Paso Doble moves for you, so you slid
Inside your wealth like a hoof. A Hexabranchus man, did you not miss?
the little doll you toyed with in Valencia while the festival of fire was going on !
August 27 2022
Sponsor Mark Toney
Contest Name 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 13
Mister Tom Turkey says gobble gobble
Mrs. Tom Turkey’s head goes wobble wobble
Zig-zaging through yards of grass they meet
Hen teaching her younglings 'bout how to eat
Tom gathers, his tuft dangling from his breast
His wingtips dragging, along with all the rest
Our feathers that we fan out are fabulous
A wattle hanging from our beaks are sabulous
A sign of power, we are just like the omnivores
Our relatives, are the dinosaurs- Buitreraptors
Fierceness and courage are our personality
We stroll about with our plumes, like royalty
Cocks prance ‘round like an Indian Sundance
Our totem spirit animal symbol is abundance
The main stars we are, during the holidays
Butterballs, cooked in many delicious ways
KellyBronze Birds, 16 lbs. are the Rolls-Royce
We are a source of nourishment, for your choice
As you zest us, and massage us use a rind
Of Valencia, naval, or blood orange of a kind
Try a pink, or white coarse salt as a brine
Take a minute with Chablis, a glass of wine
A seasoned cornbread stuffing of Italian sausage,
Golden raisins, walnuts and herbs freshly grown
Stuff us, seal us in foil and into the oven we're 'goin
Uncover us in the last hours until we're bronzed
Golden tan on the outside, then let us cool down
Juicy is our white meat and as tasty as our brown
When you give thanks today and put us on display
Don’t forget to show us gratitude, s'il vous plaît
We are noble birds!
O, Valencia's prized possession,
perfected in your prime,
to pluck you without resistance
from a beaming, bowing branch...
Gravity's gentle transaction
would roll like attraction into my open palm.
To feel your textured tenderness within an easy grip,
senses saturated with sun kissed sleekness...
How juicy you must be underneath your polished peel.
Tenderness is just one press away
from these longing lips.
Digging in, cuticles' thirst would be quenched
like a manicure's pleasure.
The citrus mist would burst beneath your flesh
with the sound of captive release, freedom's sigh.
Fragrant as orange blossoms under active inhales,
sweet as honey perfumery,
tantalizing taste buds would smoothly
squeeze your ethereal pulp upon them,
dripping with delectable desire fulfilled.
Seamless in freshness, unblemished,
each bite would be a lover's delight,
binding beauty, external with internal
in this connoisseur's lifelong find.
2-18-2020
Valencia, a return to the Spanish coast, 1966
Nineteen and running wild, searching
Conversation turns to idealism, liberty expiring
Port and starboard, hand shake, maybe again
Two nights, same bar, Listened to the stories
Eleven years since he’d seen home
Adventure sets a fire in a young man’s soul
A need to spread your wings
We’d meet by chance again in Barcelona
Sorry mate, need a diversion, see those two.
Texas bar, broken chairs, bottle thrown
Turmoil and the back door’s open
Saw him smile and wave goodbye
Yes sir, those two over there, don’t know why
Damn that’s funny
Never saw him again, unspoken friendship.
Just wonder sometimes.
Ida Oaks
1827-1919
John gave me a good home.
Not one with plumbing and power,
But one with a solid slab, and a full well.
And while living in this Quaker homestead,
We found that life was precise and persistent.
But it pleased me to provide good food, and
Medicinal solace for my meager family.
Through those unyielding years we learned
To accept the twists and turns of fate,
And to continue the never-ending bows to prayer.
Death was a returning customer indeed, but
We learned to be silent, stoic and still,
When sovereign Lord Yeshua silently paid a call.
But we had indeed found paradise out west,
Out here in tranquil Whittier town!
Where it never snows at winter,
And the hills here burgeon with wild flowers!
But God was good to us,
And John worked hard to provide a good life for me.
But, Oh! To smell again, just one more time,
The wonderful heavenly fragrances
Of ten thousand Valencia blossoms,
All crowned with white dancers at springtime!
Clementine and Valentine; Margarita and Sangria...
A Mandarine, a Lime, a Blood Orange, and a Valencia...
Each one occupying particular spots,
Four little trees residing in decorative pots.
They might feel their placement's not right;
As they only get just a few hours sunlight.
They look down at the strawberries below,
Wishing they had such space for their roots to grow.
Even worse, to add insult to their injury,
They must share their pots with plants of the mint family--
Lower plants that the Planter didn't bother to name--
Certainly near-weeds of dubious fame.
Margarita and Sangria, Clementine and Valentine
Will be transplanted someday; they're just biding their time.
Blame hardly ever helps unless it is used to express anger
it does not achieve any more than venting raging frustration
levels the playing field to a point apportioning recrimination
without actually achieving anything but turning on the tap
of seemingly futile emotions seeking for a functional cause
My lover and I were set to move on from Spain back to home
a new abode on the British Isles to work and retire for good
Sitting in a house in Valencia with boxes packed with books
memorabilia trinkets and carpets rolled up for easy transport
we simply waited for one final certificate from the authorities
Nothing fancy just a signature on paper and promised long ago
but nothing had prepared us for the legendary mañana mañana
with months of inaction inaptitude and not a thought for reason
We are working on it they said but no one seemed to care about
how much depended on the form and a long chain of consequences
Now the buyers pulled out and who can blame them as they
patiently waited such a long time and eventually merely gave up
on their dream and by proxy on our venture and own aspirations
Unpacking the moving goods will keep us busy for a short while
to make our house presentable once more and waiting to ensue
Injustice grinds its teeth at feelings and reason that do not conform
fail to find the wise mind to align their disarray and stark confusion
and so we are lost in transition that keeps on lingering for an eternity
while our souls bleed remonstrate on what ifs and other conjunctives
Lashing out at floorboards and ceilings does not deal with the grief
My grandma used to say it is what it is and advised with great caution
that one never knows what it may be good for and advised acceptance
and her problems were bigger than ours with a war raging in Europe
bombs on her head ruins devastation existential fear and an unknown
and we have each other a roof over our heads and food on our table
And yet it is difficult to be grateful when a vision for imminent future
has been shattered so crudely in its unfairness of unnecessary delay
On the bright side candles and scent sticks are unpacked as we pray
17th March 2021
There is a place so beautiful I'd love to see again.
My dream vacation started in Madrid, in central Spain.
How I long to stroll again down by Retiro Lake
and see El Prado art museum. Then for old time's sake,
I'd find some iced “horchata” down by Alcala Gate,
and later see Flamenco at a bar where folks stay late.
Come tag along with me as I remember old Castile.
We'll bring potato omelets in french loaves for our meal.
In any one direction, heading north, east, south or west,
is something quite amazing for your senses to digest.
A cross upon a peak is near the great Escorial.
And Avila, by Romans built, is circled by a wall.
Segovia, Toledo, and further by the sea,
lies Valencia. That's a place I want to be!
Try the calamares (squid). I like it best when fried!
Oranges abound and the paella's bona fide.
In March , through all Valencia there is a grand display:
people burning giant statues made of papier mache.
Northward are the Pyrenees, rugged, vast and green,.
Sheep in fields, refreshing clime, and villages serene.
There's bustling Barcelona if we journey up the coast.
Farther west, along a bay in Galicia, I like most
a place named San Sebastian, a very lovely town.
It has some trees with tops like cute umbrellas upside down.
Last, to Don Quixote's Andalucia -south let's drive
where for centuries the moors' enlightenment could thrive.
Cordoba, Granada, and Seville we have to visit.
The mosques with marbled columns at Cordoba are exquisite.
Granada has a palace like none you've ever seen.
The ornate rooms and gardens were fair pleasures for a queen.
Malaga I never saw, but if ever I should go
back to Spain, that's a beach I really want to know.
So many different nations arrived on Spanish shores:
Greeks, Phoenicians, Visigoths, Carthaginians, Celts and Moors.
Iberia is fascinating. Its diversity
is so enchanting, it's the best vacation spot for me!
4/28/2015